


for years or for hours

by cancerouscactus



Category: Naruto, One Piece
Genre: M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerouscactus/pseuds/cancerouscactus
Summary: Hidan lays there—for years or for hours, he does not know. But one day he wakes—the sky is blue and the ocean bluer.





	for years or for hours

**Author's Note:**

> i have no words in defence for what i have just done

_i have never known peace_

_like the damp grass that yields to me_

_i have never known hunger_

_like these insects that feast on me_

_*_.*.*

As entertaining as it is to blow people up and bury them, it is decidedly less entertaining when it happens to you. The pain and the dark was entertaining for all of five minutes—when his muscles _burned_ and he felt closer to Lord Jashin than he ever had—and the dirt in his hanging open jaw, his tongue lolling out, made itself known and he felt bugs on his skin and he was _cold_.

Abandoned—the rush of the Holy Jashin was gone from him and he was alone.

(He wonders when he started feeling Jashin’s presence under his skin—when what was supposed to be a cover became the creeping madness that took his mother.)

He couldn’t tell you how long he was under—for years or for hours—but it was long enough that his eyelids grew fully back ( _he had not even noticed they were gone_ ).

Hidan’s bloodline (he could admit it, here in the dark, in pieces, that religion was a shield to hide behind—religion was an uncomfortable subject for shinobi—he got questions, but not the experiments an immortality kekkai genkai would receive) worked in slow, slow increments. He could regrow a body from a head, but he’s sure it would take _decades_ , he did not want to think about how long it would take with the dirt in the way—and even when it did grow back how would he get out?

This, he knew, was the closest to death he would ever get. This was neither a comforting nor upsetting thought, but just that. A thought.

And then, after so long, burning, searing heat—

There is light behind his lids and air in his lungs, warm and not stale like it was in the beginning—fresh. His fingers twitch. The grass beneath his fingers is moist with dew—it’s almost a sensory overload to just laying in the grass beneath the sun, hearing the sound of rolling waves and the faint chirping of birds, the screams of the gulls, and the buzz of insects.

Hidan groans, a broken, painful thing. All the noise did was scrape his throat raw and cause blood to well in his mouth. He has to stop himself from whimpering when he pries his eyes open, and he curls in himself, balled up in the grass in an unknown land.

*.*.*

_a thousand teeth_

_and yours among them, i know_

_our hungers appeased_

_our heartbeats becoming slow_

*.*.*

The next time he wakes it is cold once more, biting in his skin in the way only metal can which makes it difficult to confuse with what was (yet his mind still tries). He forces his face into a grin he thought he had once forgotten.

He groans obscenely this time, wantonly as he stretches, even if the sound is no better than his first awakening from out of The Hole, even if all it brings him is searing pain and violent trembling, it helps him keep track of the number of limbs he has on him (four this time, which is better than he thought it would be for a long time). The metal beneath him smells like steel and chemicals. The cool of the air bites his lungs and he absently pays mind to the clicking of heels and the snapping of latex.

Hidan opens his eyes to the feeling of someone lifting his head up from behind, and almost regrets it immediately when the bright white of the artificial light makes his eyes water so much he cries—which, last time he checked, he didn’t have enough liquid in him to cry, so that’s definitely an improvement. Tears drip down his face and he licks at them as he eyes the cup held to his lips—drinking greedily when the water pours into his mouth in a slow, steady, stream.

“Fuck,” he hisses when the water is taken from him, and he keeps his watery eyes on it as the latex covered hands place it on another table. “Give it back,” he rasps, lifting a violently shaking hand to take it himself, greedy and desperate for another sip.

“No,” the latex hand pushes it down, “you’ll just throw it back up. Wait.” Hidan finally drags his eyes away from the cup, if only to glare at the face of the bastard who was denying him—if he wasn’t so disgustingly helpless those hands would be gone from their owner’s body, preferably staked on a wall. Said bastard was tall and lanky, tan, dark haired, with the smarmiest smirk Hidan has ever seen.

“Kakuzu?” Hidan asks, experimentally, because Hidan is almost positive he’s never seen this guy in his life and the only tall, tan person he knows of is Kakuzu. People don’t just help people they don’t know, and Kakuzu was once partners with the freaky snake who can now transfer bodies—it’s not _too_ crazy to think that it might be him.

“Trafalgar Law,” he raises an eyebrow at Hidan’s confused scowl. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Hardly disappointed,” he snorts, “Kakuzu was a real bastard. Fucker didn’t even come get me once he was done.”

“He left you behind?” Tralfagar asks, his gaze curious and prying.

“More like those tree hugging asshats got the best of him,” Hidan amends, turning his gaze to his wasted away body (it’s a sobering thought, that Kakuzu has been brought down). His pale skin sags around his bones like an ill fitting curtain around a small window, rather than wrapping around tight, strong muscles like he’s used to. He whistles in amazement, counting his clearly visible ribs. The notion of feeling awkward because he’s the only naked person in the room occurs to him, but he quickly brushes it away. “What do you want?” He asks, glancing through the room, looking for anything that might give away their location. He doesn’t recognize the the grinning yellow face pasted on the wall of the room, nor any of the other symbols around the room. People do things for favors, and if it’s a favor Hidan isn’t fond of, he needs to know where he is so he has a general idea of which way to run to find favorable terrain.

“I only wish to document the speed of your recovery from severe malnutrition and dehydration. Most people would be dead, and if they lived, certainly not awake so quickly. May I ask how long it’s been since you’ve had a meal?”

Hidan blinks, taken aback, before shrugging shakily. “Years, maybe. Fuck, I wouldn’t know without seeing a date, and even then I don’t think I can remember the day that I was…” he trails off suddenly, not really knowing how to say ‘blown to sky fucking high and put in a hole’ without it sounding suspicious and cause for further examination.

He shrugs weakly again. “I wouldn’t know. Just give me a week or so with food and water and I’ll be fine.” He finishes finally.

Tralfagar doesn’t look convinced, but really, Hidan could care less.

*.*.*

_we lay here for years or for hours_

_thrown here or found_

_to freeze or to thaw_

_so long we become the flowers_

_two corpses we were_

_two corpses i saw_

**Author's Note:**

> in a week by hozier. yes, i know this is a bad application of that song, but it’s what inspired me to write this sooooo
> 
> characterization for hidan may be a bit off, but i’m attributing that to years spent in the dark in a hole so don’t be too mean with me on that
> 
> law may also be OOC since it’s been so long since ive actually consumed any OP content so if it is do let me know!


End file.
